


The Champion of Kirkwall

by Brackenfrond



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: (as usual), But coupled with a good dose of fluff, Dragon Age II Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Abuse, In which i fuck up canon, Is anyone here straight?, Legacy DLC (Dragon Age), Mark of the Assassin DLC, Mentions of PTSD, Multi, the answer is no, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9068641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brackenfrond/pseuds/Brackenfrond
Summary: Cassia Amell, Warden, Mage and, as of recently, apostate. Working with Anders in Darktown in Kirkwall was probably not the safest or smartest plan, where the veil is thin, where Templars are ever vigilant, where gangs roam the streets at night. It is not an ideal set up, but Cassia intends to make the most of it - after all, she didn't want to become a Warden, but it became one of the best decisions of her life. The same could happen here, with a refugee, a dwarf, a pirate queen, a blood mage, a Chantry brother and a certain broody elf who dislikes mages. Greatly.





	1. Chapter 1

Cassia Amell was not a fan of Kirkwall.

She was, as far as she knew, Fereldan born and bred, having spent most of her life in Kinloch Hold and then helping Mercutio Cousland and his band of misfits save the world from a Blight. After, the newly named Hero of Fereldan had taken up the title of Warden Commander of Amaranthine, taking Cassia along with him and, for the first time in ages, Cassia had felt at home with the members Mercutio had gathered, despite their oddities. 

That had, ultimately ended in disaster when Anders had allowed Justice to use him as a host and Rolan, an ex-Templar, had accused him of becoming an abomination and called Templars in to take Anders down. To say the least, it hadn’t ended well, with Cassia helping Anders fight of the Templars and fleeing to Kirkwall. Or, well, Anders dragged Cassia along with him, muttering about how the new Wardens had betrayed him and he wasn’t going to let Cassia take the blame for the Templars Justice had torn limb from limb. Cassia didn’t really have much say in the matter.

This led to their current position - running a clinic out of Darktown and trying to not get caught by the Templars. Cassia constantly questioned why Anders had chosen Kirkwall of all places, but he just said something about an ‘old friend’ and remained silent. Cassia strongly suspected he had slept with said old friend, but didn’t mention it any more. Anders had grown more solemn since Kirkwall, and bringing up that topic would only make him retreat more into his shell and she didn’t want that. She wanted to share the banter they had back when they weren’t hiding from the Circle. Technically, they were Wardens so Meredith had no right to take them away from Darktown and into the Gallows, but Cassia highly suspected that it wouldn’t matter.

So she and Anders stayed in the dark, healing refugees and alienage elves and hoping that they would remain anonymous. And they did.

Until Hawke showed up.

It had started out as a normal day at the clinic, with an influx of refugees with horrendous coughs, an illness that Cassia had briefly struggled with earlier in the week. She and Anders were working on one child that had a particularly bad case, sweating and feverish, when she heard the sound of armoured boots against the floor of the clinic. She brushed a hand against the small of Anders’ back as she put up an arcane shield, just in case, and Anders focused on healing while she took in the people who had arrived.

The leader of the little group was a woman, dark skinned with almond shaped eyes, her black hair cut short so it hung around her shoulders. The tilt of her lips and the glint in her eyes reminded Cassia painfully of Zevran, despite the obvious differences between the two.

There was a dwarf, with blonde hair and no beard with a crossbow and Cassia’s fingers twitched, checking her mana reserves instinctively. Weapons meant trouble, and she had fought alongside dwarves before - they may be short, but they weren’t something to be trifled with. They were just as deadly as any warrior, even if they preferred knives over swords.

Speaking of swords, the final two were carrying them. A man, who looked so similar to the leader that they had to be related, and a woman, with red hair and freckles and wearing the uniform of the guard. Normally, the guards weren’t much of a problem as long as Cassia and Anders kept their heads down, but it was still unnerving to have one in the clinic.

Anders stumbled after the child was healed, and Cassia moved slightly to support him, moving closer to him.

“Four have entered the clinic. Three have weapons, one is a guard. Not sure about the leader, but assume they are armed.” She hissed and Anders nodded, reaching for his staff. Cassia pulled back slightly, hand still resting on the small of Anders’ back to keep him under the protection of her arcane shield and turned her head to address the newcomers. “Can we help you with anything?”

“We are looking for a Grey Warden.” The leader said, tilting her head slightly and eying Cassia up and down. “You wouldn’t happen to know one, would you?” Cassia snorted at that.

“Are you here to take us back? Because, honestly, if what happened was their work, you’ll have to knock us out first.”

“Not like it will be easy.” Anders spoke up, rolling his eyes. “I mean, we fought darkspawn. And a spectral dragon.”

“Sounds like a story there.” The dwarf said and Cassia shrugged.

“The life of a Warden is never dull.” She said in response. “But I doubt you are here to take us back - you lack the uniform. So?”

“We heard that you had maps of the Deep Roads. We’re planning an expedition and we need them.” Anders blinked.

“You want to - willingly - go into the Deep Roads? Why?” He stared. “Are you mad?”

“I think most people in Kirkwall are mad, Anders. Like us - two apostates, living in Kirkwall where the Templars are ever vigilant, etcetera, etcetera.” Cassia retorted and Anders folded his arms, glowering at her. She ignored him. “And yes, we have maps. Well...I have the maps. But we’re not in -”

“A favour for a favour.” Anders butted in and Cassia turned to stare at him. “What?”

“What?”

“What do you need?” The leader asked.

“I came here, not only to flee the Wardens, but to aid a friend. We are to meet in the Chantry tonight but there is a risk. If you come and keep a look out for Templars, then the maps are yours.”

“Names would be nice, though.” Cassia muttered. “Trusting my life to people whose names I don’t know is...actually, something I have done before.”

“Names it is.” the leader grinned. “The name’s Sorcha Hawke - this is my brother, Carver. Then we have Varric Tethras and Aveline Vallen. Can we have your name, serah?” Serah, Cassia liked that.

“I’m Cassia Amell.” Sorcha’s eyes widened.

“My mother was an Amell. Maybe you know her?”

“Afraid I wouldn’t.” Cassia shrugged. “I was taken to the Circle when I was five. I don’t remember my family.”

“Didn't an Amell travel with the Hero of Fereldan?” Varric asked and Cassia flushed, rubbing the back of her neck. “That was you?”

“Yeah.” It sounded more like a question than an answer and Anders snickered. “It wasn't a big deal, really - Mercutio slayed the archdemon. I just advised against blowing up the tower it was on, provided healing and made sure Zevran and Alistair stopped fighting over Mercutio.” Cassia’s nose wrinkled. “They were disgustingly cute.”

“I thought you said they were hot?” Anders said.

“Correction - Zevran was hot. Alistair was cute. Mercutio was very, very gay.”

“I am assuming that this is something unimportant.” Sorcha looked highly amused. “So, tonight?”

“Yes. We’ll meet you there.”

“We?” Anders raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. We. I am coming, Anders, so don't try and stop me.”

\----

Nights in Kirkwall were dangerous, but not as dangerous as what Cassia had once faced. An archdemon beat a few thugs any day, but she still brought her staff. It was a comfort, a familiar presence in her hand - she felt like she was doing something more than helping in the clinic. Cassia had also discarded her usual attire for something similar to what she had worn on the road - not robes, but a long cloak, lined with fennec fur, brown leggings and a blue tunic. Anders was not calm, pacing nervously.

“Anders, you’re going to give me a headache.”

“I’m worried.” He hissed. “What if they back out? What if Karl isn't there? What if they sell us out?”

“They won't back out, they need the maps. If Karl isn't there then we can rearrange the meeting somehow. Sorcha is a mage - selling us out would mean selling her out and they all seem decent enough. Breathe, Anders, we have faced worse.”

“But -” He cut himself off at the sight of four figures making their way towards them. He relaxed when he recognised Sorcha at the head and Cassia nudged you.

“Told you.”

“Shut up.”

Sorcha had traded out the guards woman for an elf with a greatsword which, OK, was unexpected but a relief. A guard would probably be less likely to help if it came to breaking the law, but the look he gave them was anything but helpful.

At first, Cassia thought he was Dalish because of the tattoos but...they didn't look like the vallaslin the Dalish had. They looked raised and sore around the edges. Her fingers twitched, wanting to trace them and soothe the ache she imagined was there. Judging from the look on his face, though, Cassia helping would probably not be something he would allow. Shame.

“This is Fenris. I figured getting him to meet some...decent mages would be good for him.”

“Please refrain from using language that makes him sound like a child or an animal.” Cassia said reflexively, then flushed at the looks that got her. “I have dealt with alienage elves before. Terms like that... don't sit right when you've seen them in cages, close to being carted off to Tevinter.” Surprisingly, Sorcha’s expression turned into something Zevran would wear whenever he had done something particularly chaotic.

“See, Fenris? Some mages actively oppose Magisters.” Sorcha said, her smile slightly too toothy. Fenris still didn't look too happy, but at least he wasn't scowling anymore.

“Can we go?” Anders spoke up. He was shifting from foot to foot, agitated. “There are no Templars as far as I can tell and if we stand around…”

“Yeah. Lead the way.” Sorcha gestured for Anders to head inside, and Cassia followed the blonde inside.

The fact the Chantry was alight unnerved Cassia, and she sped up slightly to match Anders’ pace.

“I don’t like this.” She hissed. “Karl wouldn't have left candles lit - it’s...it doesn't feel right.”

“I can't just leave.” Anders retorted, voice a harsh whisper. Cassia was aware of Sorcha’s group straining to listen in. “Karl has risked his life to get here. We have to help him.”

“And we will.” Cass replied. “Just...stay on your guard.” Answers smiled wryly.

“I have you to watch my back.” He retorted. “And you have slayed an archdemon.”

“Assisted in the slaying of an archdemon.” She hissed in correction, head turning and catching Fenris’ wide eyed stare, which turned into a glower when he noticed her looking. “He keeps looking at me.”

“Well, you are pretty.” Anders pointed out, managing to avoid her slap by making his way up the stairs. Cassia thought some very insulting things in Anders’ general direction, following him up the stairs.

The hair’s on the back of her neck rose at the sight of a single person, standing alone with their back towards them. Anders’ friend, it had to be, but...it didn’t feel right. Nothing about any of this felt right. Why the Chantry, of all the places they could have met? Where Chantry sisters and mothers slept at night? Why not somewhere they could blend in - The Hanged Man, or even ask Lirene to keep her shop open a bit longer for this meeting.

“Anders.” She hissed, grabbing his elbow to make him halt. Sorcha and her friends followed suit.

“What?”

“Nothing about this is right. Why the Chantry? Why not The Hanged Man, or Lirene’s? Don’t you see?” Cassia hissed. “It’s a ploy. We’ve been had.”

“But…” Anders’ brow furrowed. He turned to face Karl again. “Karl?”

“Anders.” At the monotone voice, Cassia cursed under her breath and Anders’ face broke. “I knew you would come.” When Karl turned, it just confirmed Cassia’s thoughts - the brand on his forehead was damning.

“No!” The cry that tore from Anders’ throat was heart breaking. “No, this isn’t...this can’t be…” His sentence trailed off into a horrible sob and Cassia turned at the sound of heavy armour clanking up the stairs. She cursed and watched as Sorcha and her companions drew their weapons. Her eyes flickered to Anders, whose skin was beginning to crack, lines of bright blue light breaking through.

“Fuck.” The word came out without Cassia’s permission and, with a wave of her hand, a wall of ice blocked the Templars. Not for long, just a little, but enough time to possibly get Anders to regain control. “Anders?”

“The Templars shall pay for the injustices they have inflicted!” And, yeah, Justice was already out. Cassia resisted the urge to ram her head against a pillar because Varric and Sorcha were staring, and Carver looked a cross between confused and freaked out and Fenris had returned to his scowling expression. This whole thing was a mess. “They will never have another mage as they had him!”  _ They will not harm anyone we care about _ . Cassia could sense that current underneath. Justice, for some strange reason, seemed to like her, and Anders was one of her closest friends. It was almost touching, if the Templars weren’t currently hacking through the ice wall. She drew her staff, feeling her magic course through it.

“Justice. This will be just like old times.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of panic attacks related to PTSD

The Templars had been defeated and Anders had killed Karl. He’d ran after, leaving Cassia to deal with the aftermath - the explanation needed.  
She sighed heavily, kneeling next to Karl’s body, closing his eyelids. Like that, she could pretend he was dreaming, if not for the blood on his robes. If not for the sunburst on his forehead.  
Cassia felt a surge of anger rise up in her, bubbling in her throat. How dare they make this mage, a mage who had definitely passed his Harrowing, tranquil! To what? Get at Anders? To capture the ‘dangerous apostates’ living in Kirkwall? Not like they had any authority to take either of them to the Circle - they were Wardens, they were allowed to be free from the Circle.  
To her utmost horror, her rage came out as a sob, a horrible, wet thing. Usually her rage manifested itself as tears, but right now, in front of four complete strangers was not when she wanted it to happen.  
She could hear them shuffling awkwardly as another sob tore it’s way out of her throat against her will. A hand was on her shoulder, gauntleted and sharp.  
“Mage?” It was the elf - Fenris, Cassia corrected herself. “Are you -”  
“I’m fine.” Cassia scrubbed her eyes furiously, wiping away tears. She took a deep, shuddering breath, before rising to her feet. “I’m just - he passed his Harrowing. This is illegal.” She let out a harsh puff of a laugh. “Fucking Kirkwall - no wonder Justice is losing it.”  
“Justice.” Sorcha’s voice startled Cassia. “That...what happened? With Anders?” Cassia ran a hand through her hair at that, before sighing heavily.  
“I should explain - I can give you a basic rundown. Not much more.” She managed. “I mean, I’m still not clear on what happened.  
Back when we were with the Wardens in Amaranthine, we travelled to the Black Marsh, where we met a spirit of Justice. To make the long story short, he was trapped outside the Fade, and was possessing the body of one of our Wardens, a man named Kristoff. I convinced Mercutio, the Warden Commander at the time, to allow him to travel with us. A fade spirit lost and alone in this world...I pitied him.”  
“Unwise.” Fenris muttered and Cassia shot him a sharp look. “It possessed a body, and you allowed a demon to follow you.”  
“A good one, actually. We were pitifully short on Wardens after what had happened at Ostagar - I was there, I know the extent of Loghain’s betrayal - and Justice had helped us while in the Black Marsh. There is a difference between spirits and demons, too - spirits harbour good virtues. I met one of Valour during my Harrowing, and I met another mage who had a spirit of Faith save her life. Demons are spirits who have been denied their original purpose, who have gone against it - like a spirit of Wisdom being made to fight turns it to a Pride demon. Lesson of the day for you there, but we’re getting off topic.  
The body Justice had taken possession of was wearing away...well, rotting would be more accurate. Kristoff was already dead when Justice inhabited the body, so the fact that Justice’s vessel was falling apart was becoming an issue. I don’t know what Anders did, but...I think he has a bit of Justice inside him. There was something to do with Templars, names and accusations were hurled. I showed up near the end, helped fend off the remaining Templars. The others…” A full body shudder wracked her involuntarily. Blood, she remembered, red and cloying, the smell of rust in the air, bodies torn limb from limb. Like at Ostagar, like during the final battle, like the remains of Branka’s expedition, like the elves attacked by the werewolves, like the Templars and mages back at Kinloch Hold, like -  
Cassia couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her chest was too tight, her heart beating too fast. Was she dying? It felt like she was dying.  
“Mage, Mage.”  
“Try using her name, Fenris.” Voices. There were voices, though they sounded like they were being spoken through water.  
“Cassia, I am going to take you hand and place it on my chest. Try to match my breathing.” The voice, the gravelly one that sounded harsh was unusually soothing. She felt someone take her hand, place it against metal. A muttered curse, and it moved until it was resting against fabric. She could feel the steady rise and fall of breathing, and focused on matching her own to it instead of the images racing through her mind.  
Things seemed to clear, and she cursed herself internally for breaking down again in front of these people. Stupid, stupid, weak mage.  
“That was pathetic - sorry.”  
“You were at Ostagar.” It was, surprisingly, Carver who spoke. Carver, who had been quiet and observant, whose voice was surprisingly soft. “I understand. It was a bloodbath. And you were one of the only Wardens to survive it.”  
“I hadn’t even been out of the Circle a month.” Cassia managed and Varric’s face, usually kind, twisted into a scowl.  
“They expected you to fight in a war with no experience?”  
“I would say Merc was in my position.” Cassia got out. “But he was trained since he was young. Joining the Wardens was when I got my first sight of the sky that I could remember. I forgot what a sunset looked like. Fenris, you can let go of my wrist now.” The elf looked stunned, like he hadn’t realised he was still maintaining physical contact with Cassia, and released her wrist hastily from his grasp. She pulled her hand back, frowned minutely at the tiny pinprick cuts there and channeled healing magic to them, healing them up with barely an effort. “I forgot where we were. Shit.”  
“I think we can get the picture.” Sorcha said. “Do you want us to walk back to the clinic with you? There may be Templars lingering about.”  
“I…” Cassia bit her lip. “I don’t want to be a bother. I’ve already inconvenienced you enough.”  
“It is no inconvenience. I shall walk you back.” Fenris spoke up, and Sorcha looked surprised but also slightly pleased.  
“Told you not all mages are bad.” She said, before tipping her head to Cassia. “You’re no problem, Cass. Can I call you Cass? Anyway, I’ll be by the clinic tomorrow to pick up the maps. Is that good?” Cassia blinked, slightly stunned.  
“That’s...fine. Just come in if the latern’s lit. If not, then it means I have convinced Anders that sitting down is a good idea, also possibly getting him to eat, so just knock.” Varric mouthed the word ‘eat’, but Sorcha just nodded.  
“We’ll head out first, make sure the way is clear of Templars. Although Anders may have dealt with them.” Sorcha said, before heading out, her brother and the dwarf hot on her heels. That left Cassia in the Chantry with an elf who was most definitely not keen on mages, who was also looking at her.  
“Do I have something on my face?” Fenris seemed taken aback by Cassia’s question.  
“What?”  
“You keep staring at me.” Cassia answered, trying her best not to snap. She was never this irritable before travelling with Merc, she was sure, and she blamed his mismatched companions that he’d collected from all over Ferelden for her suddenly short temper. “It’s slightly disconcerting.”  
“You...are not what I expected.” Debris said. “I’m waiting for you to...to meet my expectations.” Cassia had to snort at that. Fenris blinked, stunned.  
“Sorry. I’ll have you know I very rarely meet people’s expectations. Mostly because I convince everyone that letting sort of criminals live is a good idea.”  
“You...what?”  
“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you it sometime.” Cassia offered a small smile, that Fenris didn't return. His eyes were narrowed, as though analysing Cassia’s words and expression for any sign of her lying. She sighed internally. “We should go. Before morning, preferably.”  
“I…” Fenris’ frown deepened, before nodding. “Yes. Of course.”  
The two headed out of the Chantry, oblivious to the red-haired lay brother who had been listening to their entire conversation, not judgemental, but more so thoughtful.  
\---  
When Cassia returned to the clinic, Anders was still awake, scribbling madly at his manifesto, eyes slightly red.  
“Anders.” Her voice was quiet, sympathetic and Anders let his quill drop, and hid his head in his hands.  
“Why?” He managed, voice a whisper. Cassia sighed, shedding her cloak as she made her way over, pulling him to his feet and holding him. The man’s head dropped to her shoulder, clutching the back of her robes as sobs shook him. “He passed his harrowing. He was never out of line. He was...he was…”  
“I know.” Cassia whispered, her thumb rubbing soothing circles against his back. “Oh, Anders, I know.”  
“They took my name, my freedom and now…” He pulled back, amber eyes wide and hurt and sad but so very angry. “They took him. I can’t let them take anyone else. I need to write, need to let them know -”  
“You need to rest. Before you work yourself to death.” Cassia brushed a loose strand of blonde hair out of his eyes, sun where hers was the night sky. So different in appearance, yet they shared so many experiences - it was obvious why some patients thought they were more than just friends. Maybe before Kirkwall, maybe before everything went to hell, but now Anders had his mages to free and Cassia had her own aspirations. “For me. I had another panic attack, Anders. After.”  
“The same as usual?” He asked, not surprised. Cassia nodded.  
“Fucking Ostagar.” She muttered and Anders took her wrist, rubbing the inside of it with his thumb. “I need something to take my mind off it. I think...I might see if Sorcha needs any help. A Grey Warden can’t hurt to have around, right?” Anders frowned slightly, a furrow appearing between his eyebrows. Cassia fought the urge to brush it away.  
“Are you sure that’s wise? The Templars -”  
“ - Can’t take us in legally. Besides, I am pretty sure they know about us, they just can’t prove anything.” Cassia managed a small smirk at that. “I need to get out, Anders. I want to help people - you could see if you can join us, too. It would be good for you, keep your offensive magic sharp.”  
“...I suppose I could convince Sorcha to help with the mage underground.”  
“Positives!” Cassia grinned. “I’ll probably bring up the terrifying amount of slavers around here and see if she’ll help me take down some of the bigger groups. But that’s enough business talk for now - we should at least get maybe four hours sleep before we’re flooded with patients.”  
“I need -” Anders cut himself off with a yawn and Cassia tutted.   
“Bed. Now.”  
“Yes, mum.” Anders rolled his eyes, but headed into the backroom.  
It was split into two by a dark blue curtain Cassia had managed to get from a couple who no longer needed it. Anders’ side was vaguely neat, but the fact that there were multiple crushed pieces of parchment littered on the floor belied the fact that Anders was having trouble writing his manifesto.  
Cassia’s half was slightly more messy - her bed was unmade, books piled at the foot of it. She still had her Warden uniform tucked away in the bottom of a chest, along with other trinkets from her time with Merc - a compass, bronze and elegant, a pair of fine velvet gloves and a marble figurine of Andraste. Merc had liked giving gifts, just things he thought his companions - his friends - would like.  
She changed into her nightclothes, tossing her robes into a wash basket that she really should get around to emptying, but constantly put off. Cassia managed to bury herself into the covers, pulling them up to her chin and trying to ignore the shivers that still shook her. They were from the cold that still permeated the material, and the fear that her nightmares wouldn't allow her a restful sleep.  
Bracing herself for what she was sure would fill her dreams, Cassia closed her eyes.  
True to her thoughts, her sleep was not a peaceful one.

**Author's Note:**

> A late Christmas present for you all - a new fic instead of an update.  
> Dragon Age is my recent obsession, and I shall forever be in love with it. Hope you enjoy!


End file.
